I'll Love You With a Kiss
by TheOneYouCallWe
Summary: A collection of drabbles, or oneshots, all featuring a kiss. MaesxRoy.
1. Theme 1

Just to Certain Extent

30 Kisses Theme: 1. 'Look Over Here'

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me

Notes: I should be finishin my homework by now, but nooo I just HAD to update this. –curses you all-

Summary: Maes may be a nutjob, but he's a damn well talented nutjob.

* * *

"Roy! C'mon, if you're gloomy Gracia can help!"

"Hawkeye do I have _any more--_

"Roy! RoyRoyRoyRoyRoyRoyRoyRoyRoyRoy--"

"MAES! PLEASE SHUT UP AND LET ME WORK!" Roy hollered at the cowering man, attempting to become one with the wall.

"But you looked so down that I thought a beautiful picture of Gracia would help! Oh? Not Gracia? Then how about my darling daughter Elysia?.! She's so cute I could just…"

Eyeing the obsessive man cautiously, Riza questioned, "Would you like some help, sir?"

"Even paperwork is better than this…" He groaned as he slumped onto the overloaded desk, causing it to finally give way and capsize. "Shit…there goes my raise."

"And any chances for a promotion within the next…5 months, 3 weeks, 4 days, 17 hours, and 15.6 minutes."

"Thank you for the update, Riza. I'll be sure to look into it."

"Ooh, Roy isn't getting a promotion anytime soon? C'mon! Stop stalling, make a name for yourself. Boy, you better put that pen to paper and charm your way out. If you talk it, better walk it, better back your shit up" Maes sang as he danced his own ritualistic Roy-get-a-promotion-dance.

"Singing isn't going to help me, Maes."

"Make us it, make us hip, make us scene" Maes completely ignored him.

"MAES! LOOK OVERE HERE—AT ME!"

Maes' grin suddenly turned sinister as he gave him a calculating smirk. "Now you know how **I **feel, Roy."

"What-?" His sentence was cut short as Maes lightly pecked the other on his nose.

"Take it a day at a time, Roy." He gave a casual wave, only stopping to attempt to shove all his love on Fuery's overworked—and rather overcrowded—arms.

"Sir?" Riza gave him the same wary glance as Maes.

"…where's Fullmetal when you need him…?"

* * *

One: I love pre-ordering things.

We: Although it took 17 days to arrive...

Currently watching: Life on the Murder Scene  
Current mood: Pretty damn calm, actually


	2. Theme 2

Breaking Point

30 Kisses Theme: 2. 'News; Letter'

Pairing: MaesxRoy, slight RoyxEd

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me, nor does 'Note to Self' by From First to Last

Notes: General Roy-angst.

Summary: Note to self: I miss you terribly. This is what we call a tragedy, come back to me.

* * *

"3 years…" Roy whispered to himself as he lightly stroked the cracked picture frame, "3 years since you had to leave me…"

"Roy?" Edward peeked around the corner warily.

"Yes, Ed?"

"I…I'll just leave you alone." His blonde lover sadly walked off, knowing to leave the man in his peace.

Once a year, around this time, Roy would gain a depressed aura, and would demand total silence and peace. The first time this had happened, Ed had been so intrigued by what Roy was mourning, that Roy had accidentally lashed out at him and avoided him for a week.

Now Ed knew.

Sometimes, he felt like a rebound. Roy had never had the chance to tell Maes of his 'petty crush' (as Roy so lightly put it) for the spastic man. And now, it was too late.

Hm.

Funny how you realize just how quickly your entire life can be destroyed.

After losing his eyesight, Roy had become something of a hermit, never leaving his room. That's where Edward came in. He had been determined to break Roy of his foolish depression and continue his mission for Fuhrer.

Gradually, Roy had begun to gain back his sanity, with Ed's help of course.

But it was one rather alarming day that Ed decided Roy needed someone with him at all times.

Clippings of newspapers (Homicide in Central! Military Questioned for Death of Officer), letters (Tell me how you died, Maes!), and sticky notes (I miss you terribly. Please, come back to me) were thrown in a haphazard pattern across the entire house. Roy was laying in a drunken state across his couch, half-dead from too much alcohol, and not a single coherent word from him.

It was also then that Roy stole Ed's first kiss.

Revelations come in strange packages, certainly.

But one note stood out perfectly, in crisp ink, laminated and plastered to Roy's door.

'Note to self: I miss you terribly.

This is what we call a tragedy.

Come back to me.'

"Maes…I love you. But I have to move on…" And Roy's tears slipped silently into the cracks of the picture.

* * *

One: Yay for Sonny-dearest! 

We: Don't you dare forget Way-love and Iero-love.

One: Oh yeah…

Current Music: Alkaline Trio-Sadie  
Current Mood: Sick & in pain.


	3. Theme 3

Kiss On the Neck of Just Friends

30 Kisses Theme: 3. 'Jolt!'

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Disclaimer: Fall Out Boy & Fullmetal Alchemist do not belong to me.

Notes: Lovely lovely lovely.

Summary: The nurse was on pregnancy leave, Roy was bawling like a child, and Maes had a raging headache the size of Armstrong.

* * *

"Ow! Damnit, that hurts!" Roy yelped as Maes harshly plunged the needle into his arm, sending a jolt of pain up his arm.

"It's your own fault for not keeping better self of yourself." Maes gave an uncustomary scowl, glaring at Roy's arm as if hoping it would implode at any moment.

"Quit glaring at me like that."

"I'm not glaring at _you, _I'm glaring at your **arm." **He twisted the needle slightly, causing Roy to screech in agony.

"Alright already! I'll shut up! Just…quit…TWISTING THAT!" Tears sprang to his eyes as his other arm trembled from the need to clutch his throbbing arm. Exhaustedly, he attempted to give Maes a death fit for Edward by glaring straight at the other's antennae. "You're evil, you know that?"

"Only around you…" He mumbled, loosening his own grip on the syringe and slowly pulling it out. "You're such a child, Roy."

"Well it **hurt **you asshole." He mumbled into his goose-feather pillow, drifting off into sleep, until…

"Get off."

"No."

"Maes, I am not in the mood."

"I don't care—I am."

Roy let out a silent scream as he imagined Maes' smirking face behind him.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"I can say I do."

"No you can't."

"STOP BEING A DOMINATRIX!"

Maes blinked at the unexpected remark from his lover. A dominatrix, was he…?

"…Russell's been telling you of his escapades with Edward, hasn't he?"

"Yes…and they're killing me inside…" He let out a pitiful moan, as if dying, and waved his arms about dramatically—face still stuffed into pillow.

"Then why not a kiss to make it better?"

Roy sighed in defeat. "Fine…" He flipped himself over, staring hard at the other in front of him.

"A kiss on the forehead for just relatives…" he pecked Roy's pale forehead

A kiss to the cheek for just friends…" he barely brushed his lips over his luscious, soft cheeks

A kiss to the lips for just privileges…" the slightest hint of a tounge licked at Roy's lips

And a kiss to the neck for just lovers…"

* * *

Current music: Puddle of Mudd-Away From Me

Current mood: Excited


	4. Theme 4

Narration

30 Kisses Theme: 4. 'Our distance and that person'

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist & 'But It's Better if We Do!' by Panic! At the Disco do not belong to me.

Notes: AU of sorts. More like a future fic, but whatever it be. 

Ramblings: Cameos, cameos, cameos. Oh, and this would've been up way sooner, but things went all 'FZZT. -die-' and my comp hated me. That, and another thing but...yeah.

Summary: Edward had a mission--one that required the utmost care & perseverance, even with the other constantly in his way, albeit deceased.

* * *

There was always something comforting about dancing. The glitz and the glamour only succeeded in furthering this observation of his, but only disrupted it as well. 

"Good day, sir. You're looking mighty fine today."

"Only you could recognize me, Agatha."

Perhaps it was the intoxicating scent of slick, spicy bodies it a fervent mass writhe; whatever it may be.

"Sir, would you like a…?"

"No, I already have one. Thank you."

But for chance or nature's changing course, it may have been the sex of the young disguised as the innocent.

"Ma'am, would you happen to know if a man with short, dark hair passed by?"

"The older ones, eh? Such a shame--you have such gorgeous hair. Top left corner, dear."

This is where no rules apply; if you are alive, you are in 'youth'. Only those of most desperate lies have wasted their 'youth'.

"Mustang?"

"Elric?"

"Elric? As in Edward Elric?"

Time has stopped for this corner of sin and pleasure; testosterone boys and harlequin girls line the stages.

"You've grown older, Elric."

"Please, Roy, it's just Edward."

"Right. Edward."

No one is anyone, and anyone is no one; but in this haven lies the sickly-sweet scent of purity that only he could sense.

"What the hell are you doing here, Edward? And furthermore, how did you found me."

"You ask too many questions, Roy."

The medley of lust changes slightly to a more exotic and classic age, and the beat slows to a wavering spin.

"Roy…just how old are you now?"

"The hell? 33. Why?"

"And how long has Maes been gone?"

He sips barely at his peach and lime daiquiri--not that he was legally able to drink, but _he _had offered it to him. Just the thought of an indirect kiss from _him_ was shocking enough in itself.

"Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead in this place, but…"

"But?"

The singer is a fresh crop, and the lust of the crowd furthers to his slim figure, pink supple lips and how innocent he seems--not that either of the two notice him.

"5 years, Roy. 5 years since the military crashed, 5 years since Maes was killed, and 5 years since you left your black heart shattered with your eye."

"Archer killed my eye, Edward."

"Whatever it be."

"Why did you come here?"

He cannot draw his eyes from _his _sickly, pale complexion, the golden, rhinestone-laced mask, the slicked-back hair, and the faded dark eyes that hard seen more than their share of horrors.

"Let him go, Roy. I know you loved him, but he had Gracia, and Elysia."

"What do you know?"

"You're right. I _don't _know. But I _do _know that this isn't healthy; this isn't right; and you certainly could use a helping hand. He's gone, distant from you, and he's never coming back."

There is always something comforting about dancing, but neither notice the quell of sounds, but only the harsh whispers of one-sided endearment and distant cries for desperate lies.


	5. Theme 5

Drama Llama

30 Kisses Theme: 5. 'Ano sa' ('Hey you know…')

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me.

Notes: I didn't create the term 'drama llama' & gosh knows who did.

Ramblings: I have suck-ass typing skillz.

Summary: He was unsure to whether this was his idea of some sick joke, or really the truth.

* * *

"Hey, hey, did you hear? The Colonel, he's…"

"Yeah, I heard that he really…"

"Seriously? But why would he?…"

"Is there something you three need to tell me about?"

"Oh shit, it's Lieutenant Hawkeye! RUN FOR IT, HAVOC!"

**_ooooooo_**

There could me nothing less amusing than a Colonel in a hospital ward--especially not State-certified.

"You're a real idiot, Roy."

Yet, he found the prospect of _Roy Mustang_ attempting _that_ completely absurd, and rather…unorthodox.

"I know I am, Maes."

Actually, he couldn't remember the last time Roy had ever done something stupid. He was always the _intelligence_ of the military, and this…_this_ had ruined his so-called 'reputation'.

"Why'd you do it?"

Roy, in turn, felt so _ridiculous_ in the fact that he had _failed._ Never had he failed at anything, and to fail at _this…_

"I…I really don't know. Pressure, maybe?"

_Idiot._

"You attempted _suicide,_ Roy. No amount of pressure could make you--"

"I felt helpless, Maes! I felt very fucking helpless, and--and--with all the Scar killings, I just…"

"…"

There are no words, no tears to be shed, and for that, perhaps he is grateful. Grateful to not be the _source_ of pain for Maes.

"Idiot."

But, he knows better than that. Every waking _moment_ that Roy is in some sort of danger--be in small & petty, or mortal & life-threatening, he is **causing. Maes. _Pain._**

And for that, he cannot forgive of himself.

"Roy…have I ever told you just _how_ much you really mean to me?"

And suddenly, there is _more meaning_ to what they are saying; more emotion--albeit distraught & rather painful--to what they are _saying_, and not simply **speaking.**

"N-no…not really."

Touchy, testy, _awkward_ subjects men would care not to speak of. They had a **duty** to their fellow man, not to pointless things such as…as…**_emotions!_**

"Would you care for me to?"

But one thing is for certain--men are compulsive in their decision, and Maes is no exception to that rule; so, perhaps, he should not have been surprised to find Maes _kissing_ him, of all things.

"What was **that** for?"

"Your idiocy, Roy. Your absolute idiocy."

Maes never told him that he forgave Roy for attempting to cheat death early. He never got the chance, either.


	6. Theme 6

Illusionary Tactics

30 Kisses Theme: 6. 'The space between dream and reality'

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me.

Notes: Lime:D It's one step closer to the lemon that I plan on writing sometime. :P

Ramblings: OH SHIT, DID I ACTUALLY WRITE THIS? O.O

Summary: He was having a ridiculously hard time believing this was really _happening.

* * *

_

Either he was having one of the most wonderful dreams in _existence,_ or his one wish in life had finally come true, Roy dazedly thought to himself as he was lowered to the bed, calloused hands lazily tracing along his collarbone. Their touch was so feathery, it nearly felt unreal--as if none of this was occurring.

Perhaps it wasn't.

After all, Maes was a **family man,** Roy attempted to process in his half-functioning mind. It simply could not be happening.

And yet, it was.

Shakily, he moved a hand down to grasp at Maes' hair, gripping it just so to know he was really _there,_ and nothing could go awry.

He struggled to keep a hold of consciousness, to mull over the incidents occurring, and whether Maes would even **remember** them. He felt guilt, for letting Maes become drunk and take advantage of him. He felt guilt, for having Maes betray what was the most loving family in existence. He felt guilt, for his young lover at his home, curled up on the couch.

He felt guilt.

So why did he not stop him?

"Maes…" He whispered breathily, as the other kissed him everywhere possible. "Maes…why…?"

Maes did not answer. In fact, Maes did not once look at him at all. It seemed he was dead set on his mission: conquer Roy.

He was doing a damn well good job of it.

"Maes…" He flushed considerably, at how teenage-girlish he sounded. He was a man, for cripes sake!

…a man, whom had willingly--_forcefully--_ had another take advantage of Roy himself…

Dream…

Reality…

The only thing that would matter in the morning is the why.

Why…


	7. Theme 7

Supernova

30 Kisses Theme: 7. 'Superstar'

Pairing: MaesxRoy

Notes: Angst and RoyxEd. Yes, it does incorporate into MaesxRoy, duh.

Ramblings: Thank you so much, Sara! I love this song dearly…

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I haven't played the piano in years and my science is all f'cked up, since it's summer.

Summary: You can never know the most about Colonel, or Fullmetal. Mysteries, with everything to gain and everything to lose.

* * *

"You needn't strain yourself so much, Colonel. Finding a killer isn't so easy--" Jean is silenced by a simple wave of his gloved hand, but a wrinkle of worry still appears briefly. Ever since the death of Brigadier General Maes Hughes, Mustang had been unnaturally cold and distant, absorbed wholly in his work. Even Hawkeye found it disturbing, as Mustang took care to **never** do his work on time--or at least, to do it last minute. Really, only Fullmetal could get through to him, and that was by force.

_'Ah, Fullmetal…there's something you never'd expect.'_ Jean huffs to himself, abandoning any hope of consoling Roy for the time being, in the hopes of the short blonde maniac appearing to get Roy out of his slump. He jumps as the door was slammed open, accidentally spilling white-hot ash onto his hand, while cursing a blue streak. _'Speak of the devil…'_

"Hey, Boss. Colonel's just being his lonely, lazy, irritable self." Jean mutters just loud enough for him to hear, but no one else while blowing onto his singed skin. He does not notice as Edward raises a cautious eyebrow at his ministrations and proceeds into the bleak office.

Courteous half-hearted greetings are exchanged, and just as the door closes, Roy is on Edward like a fly on a sack of potatoes, grilling the younger for anything, anything _at all_ regarding Mustang's killer.

Of course, there is no word.

"Mustang, I have my own issues to deal with," Edward attempts to sound sympathetic, but is failing miserably, "as does Al. We can't help you out with this. I mean, even though we seem to get out more than you do, that doesn't give you the right to suddenly order me to look for Hughes' killer." He shrugs lamely, as he purposefully avoids the glare directed at him.

It seems routine, recently.

Roy has yet to speak a word in the past 4 hours, and even then it was merely a barely audible 'Coffee. Now.' His coworkers' patience with his depression is growing thin, and it is only a matter of time until _someone--_namely Edward, snaps.

Edward growls under his breath, cursing Mustang's silence. Silence is never good.

"Fine. Here's my report. The last rumor proved to be a dud." He snarls, slapping the sheets onto his desk with a loud thwack, and storming out.

_'So much for calming the Colonel down…'_

_**ooooooo**_

Edward stomps loudly through headquarters, alerting others of his presence and his mood. They clear a way for the temperamental prodigy quickly. He glances over all the fearful expressions, and snorts his distaste, claiming a random room to sulk.

It is dark, and musky in the room. Edward's brow furrows as he sniffs at the odd scent of…oak?

"What the hell's--ow!" He bumps clumsily into a large object that jabs painfully into his right ribcage. He winces and feels around for some form of light, and finds an oil lamp.

_'Why an oil lamp?'_ He feels around for matches (useful for alchemy) and illuminates the musty room.

"A…piano? Here?" It sparks his curiosity as he runs his fingers over the dusty keys. Hesitantly, Edward presses at an occasional key, listening for if it was in tune or not. A slightly giddy smile spreads over him as he sits down at the bench and racks his brain for any previous teaching.

_'Oh yeah, Maes taught me a song.'_ Even for Edward, the thought of the cheerful family man hurts a bit. He quashes the emotion with a light strum over the keys, the memory of the haunting song coming back, slowly.

Beyond where Edward was discovering old hidden talents, Roy was searching for an object blunt and hard enough for him to repeatedly bash his head into. He hated taking out his frustration of the blonde alchemist, he really did. Groaning, he pushed himself up from the desk, and quietly marched out, leaving an astonished Havoc and Hawkeye behind.

He too, causes others to part ways for him, but only because of his commanding, superior appearance. It is a vibe unique to Roy, only attained through years of self-discipline. His dark eyes stray over the heads of others, searching for a golden braid or flaming red cape, but none. Only when he comes to an abandoned hallway, does he relax, and become more casual and…calm. Or perhaps it is the melody floating ever so faintly over him.

**_ooooooo_**

"Fullmetal, is there something I can help you with?" Said boy jumps alarmed, causing a disruption in the keys. Roy gave a small chuckle at the younger's obvious fear of…

"Why are you so scared?" Roy's voice floats over him, having said more words in those few seconds that in the past week. Edward, of course, is a frightened cat, about to bolt at any given moment. "The piano is an elegant instrument, and nothing to be ashamed of."

"Uh…u-uhm…"

"Move." Mustang commands respect, and he is given it. Edward shifts over of the cracked bench, and Roy takes his place. Again, music pours out, but only this time it is more…hopeful, with a slight tinge of sadness, and longing. It is an oxymoron put into notes and clefs and keys and strings; it is an emotion of pure despair, and pure love.

Edward's jaw hangs open visibly, and Roy smirks, shutting it with the tip of his finger.

"You need to work on your form, _Edward._ You'll never become a superstar at this rate." He steals a kiss, and grinning as widely as the Cheshire Cat, leaves the teen to mull over and fully rationalize his actions.

_'Because when you're a star, you'll never fade. You'll always be around, even stronger than before. You'll be…'_

"A supernova, even." Roy can only laugh to himself, gazing out into the sullen sunlight, and salute one supernova.

**_ooooooo_**

_"You know one of these days, Roy…I'm going to die. Maybe even soon, what with this ridiculous war and everything. What'll you do then?"_

_"I'd die with you--or at least a part of me would."_

_"A part of you huh…"_

_"That's what lovers are **for,** Maes."

* * *

_

Author's Ending notes:

The song Edward was playing was: 'To Nowhere' from the 2nd .hack/SIGN OST, and Roy was playing 'B.T.' from the 1st .hack/SIGN OST. I love the .hack/SIGN music.


	8. Theme 8

As They Say

30 Kisses Theme: 8. 'Our own world'

Pairing: MaesxRoy, implied RoyxRiza, Roy and Jean interaction (RoyxJean if you want to take it that way)

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me, nor does the song "Seize the Day" by Avenged Sevenfold from which this theme is based off of.

Notes: Character death, Royai, angst, etc.

Ramblings: I recommend physically listening to "Seize the Day" (Not "My Alcoholic Friends" xD) while reading. And possibly seeing the video for it. (Need the song? Leave me a comment in your review, with email address and I'll send it via iTunes and Windows Media Player.)

Summary: Life was not meant to be so crooked.

* * *

"Here rest she, beloved to all; a woman, an official, a mother, a lover. A beautiful--in spirit, heart, soul and mind--essential to all. Let her be free to traverse the Gate as she like. Rest in eternity…Riza Mustang." The prophet mournfully closed the Holy Book of Tha, whispering a silent plea to the god of the gate to please, take her life to a safe, peaceful place, and to never forget her husband, her daughter, and all companions and acquaintances and friends.  
His gaze blank, Roy stared at the lustrous black coffin being lowered into the ground, completely disregarding the explosion of the military's guns and ammunition. Havoc stood beside him, concern written all over him. The blonde raised a hand just above Roy's shoulder, paused, and let it drop again.

"What have I left, Jean?" The smoke-addict started, almost dropping his lighter in the process. "I've lost Hughes, half of my eyesight, and now Riza…all I have are the military and my daughter; how am I to raise a child on my own? I'm certainly not capable…"

"General…" (1)

He shook his head languidly. "No, you needn't bother. 'Don't blame yourself; there was nothing to be done; she made the decision,' were you going to tell me that?

"Actually, no…I was going to tell you that there's more to life than meets the eyes."

Roy's eye narrowed; he focused on each disappearing section of coffin, listening half-heartedly to his 3-month-old child's squeals of glee as Feury and Elysia doted on her.

"What more?"

"Well, this is just something Hughes told me once… 'no matter how hard you look, there's always more beneath the surface; you can never truly figure a person'." Jean closed his eyes, expecting a sharp remark from the cold official, but was only found with a softly smiling and eye glimmering Roy.

"Ah, Hughes…such a wonder he was. Never reveal too much to give it away, but enough to leave them curious. Almost sadistic, he was."

"You always knew him best."

A jerk ran through Roy, noticeably. "I…suppose you can say that…" A flash of a memory of those so fatherly and caring lips on his neck, his collarbone, and lower…

Jean stubbed out the cigarette with his toe, making sure not a smoldering ember was left. "So…what're you going to name her?"

"Hm…Rahn sounds…pleasant to me…"

"Rahn it is, General Roy Mustang. I'm sure Brigadier General'd be proud of his past lover." Jean waved a lazy goodbye, smirking as he heard a sharp gasp and could positively feel the embarrassment leaking off Roy. He dodged a stray--also on _fire_--flying branch, and ran off, laughing the entire way.

"Jean Havoc, you **fucking** bastard!"

* * *

(1) I have no idea what Military rankings are, so let's pretend General is higher up than Colonel. 


	9. Theme 9

Beneath

30 Kisses Theme: 9. 'Dash'

Pairing: Strictly MaesxRoy.

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me, nor does "Under the Milky Way" by Kill Hannah from which this is based off of.

Notes: Set during Ishbal Massacre, roy-pining-for-maes

Ramblings: Let's kill Hannah! Kidding, kidding. But yeah--took me damn long enough o update! Xx

Summary: He told me once 'I won't dash to you, just for you.' Of course, I was stupid and a teenager--so I believed every word.

* * *

"Can you believe it? I mean, come on! That's an insane request!"

"Ha! I know; General's always been a bit off his rocker."

"Totally."

How did they manage, in the wake of carnage and ever-present fear? They drown themselves in their alcoholic friends and forget everything, forget the girlfriends they have back home…how did they manage?

"Hey."

"Hey."

I noticed around this time, just how solemn Maes had been. I miss the exuberant, insane Maes of months past who rambled about finding that perfect girl--that perhaps, he already had. I'd rather him be cheerful with someone otherwise, than depressive with myself.

I've been called selfless before.

It's only because I'm so selfish of Maes happiness' that I can stand to give him up.

"Staring at the stars?"

"Yeah; wondering of things…"

"Like?"

He chuckles. "If maybe, there's something like another world out there, where the ere people doing the same thing as us."

He always has such peculiar thoughts and ideas--just as I prefer him to be. Not dark and introverted, closed off the world in his own agony. That's me, Roy Mustang; not him, Maes Hughes.

I clap my fingerless gloves together--military-issued, not my alchemist gloves--and rub them together, hoping to warm myself up in this frigid desert weather. He, however, seems at all content with the temperature, and it is simply so amusing because Maes has the body temperature of a furnace, I should know.

"Hey, Roy."

"Yeah?"

"What the name of this er…galaxy we're under?"

"Um…The Lactose Way."

"Seriously? That sounds so…un-romantic. Wouldn't The Milky Way sound better?"

"Yeah, it probably would."

I strive desperately to dash over those few centimeters to him and just kiss those cold, hot lips that I received--just once, in an unforgettable drunken night.

I never told Maes of it, hence why I refrained.

"Hey Maes…"

"You've been 'hey maes'ing a lot today. What's it now?"

"What are you looking for?"

He seems moderately confused at my question, in that adorable Hughes-way, and I again quell my thirst for him.

"In the stars?"

"…yeah."

"I don't know, to tell the truth. Answers to anything--this war, this killing of innocent…I know, I know; hate to bring up the subject, but… it's something quite peculiar, that we'll never understand. Under the Milky Way tonight…"


	10. Theme 10

Caviar…

30 Kisses them: 10. '#10'

Pairing: Starts off RoyxHavoc in the past, then to present MaesxRoy.

Disclaimer : I don't own FMA, but I sure do own the idea. I mean, not the theme either, but…whatever.

Notes: Fluffy. I need some fluff.

Ramblings: S'posed to be fluff, but was angsteh. D:

Summary: 10th year, 10th month, 10th day.

* * *

"A list of tens, Roy?"

Said man turned slightly to face his amused lover. "Of course, Jean. I do so every month. It's a list of everything that could be ranked: favorite person, favorite time of day, favorite expression." He quickly clamped his hand over the blonde's mouth, "Now, don't even ask, I'm still getting to it. You see, quite simply," he raised his left index finger, as if to prove a significant point, "I am _quite_ unsatisified with little to no change."

"So…you make a list of current 'tens' and then scramble them around?" Jean's eyes shined brightly in the lamp light, and yet again Roy wondered what good deed he'd done in his past lives to deserve such an innocent boy for a lover.

Roy laughed. "Well, sort of. It's also like a planner of sorts; a prioritizer, if you will. What's coming up in the next week that I care about, is ranked higher." His tanned pointer finger moved to a '#2. Recruits' Missions' "What I don't care for…" and then to a '#8. Recruits' Lunches' "receives a lower place, obviously. That and my priorities are **completely** fucked up all the time, so I need a way to keep track of them."

But Jean had lost focus. His eyes were avidly following the graceful flow of Roy's fingers along the simple paper, and she shuddered greatly.

"Roy."

Roy's head jerked. He recognized that tone…

"As you wish."

**_ooooooo_**

"…you were with _Havoc?"_

"I said: **Shut. Up. Maes."**

Maes was treading on thin ice--he _knew_ it. And yet, he treaded on, conscious of the danger of pissing off his superior, aka ex-lover.

"You know, Roy…" Hughes started off, smirking uncannily from the corners of his eyes, "Gracia is going to be out of town this weekend, and Elysia is staying with Edward and Alphonse. Of course, I'll be--"

"No."

His jaw shut forcibly. "Why the hell not, Roy?"

"Because every time you do, something happens, and I just fall deeper into this pit of lies, as do you. In fact, you're worse off than I am." Coldly, Roy ignored the frustrated Maes, turning back to his alcoholic drink. "You have a wife and a kid, I don't. Of course, we **both** have our jobs, though…"

"Forget our jobs, Roy. This is--

--lust we're talking about here, Maes. Nothing more, nothing less."

Maes' glass slammed down forcibly, rattling the bar slightly. His actions were calm, but he radiated anger and frustration.

Roy gave an exhausted sigh. 'Every day, a mental strain…' Out of one of his many hidden pockets, he brought out a small, white notebook, in contradiction to the black one of 'phone numbers'. As his eyes began to close, the notebook fell open to a page:

_10.10.10._

_Don't Forget._


	11. Theme 11

Glass

30 Kisses theme: 11. 'Gardenia'

Pairing: HughesxRoy angst. Hints of RoyxEd.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or the song 'Through the Glass' by Stone Sour, from which this…thing is based off of.

Notes: Angst. Post-Hughes death.

Ramblings: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING. :D

* * *

He never hated mirrors or glass, until after Maes died. Whenever he would look into a mirror, he would see a bitter Maes glaring back at himself, almost venomously; through a window, he would witness Maes' death over and over, just as he happened to have interpreted it to be.

"3 days…and it feels like forever."

"Did you say something, sir?"

"Nothing, Hawkeye…"

Roy leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the top of his desk. The sunlight streamed in, and he hated it--he hated it so very much. It reminded of the joy and light that always, _always, _streamed and flowed around Hughes, no matter how annoying the man may be.

_'Did he lose that light when he died? No, he couldn't have…'_

"I'm taking my leave, Hawkeye." For once—as he had nothing to bother, and nothing else to do—his work was done for the day, so he was free to do as he pleased. Hawkeye simply nodded and continued to rifle through her thesaurus of alchemaic bullet wounds and how they may be repaired.

**_ooooooo_**

He ended his short walk standing before the grave of him. 3 days was not nearly enough time to recover from the loss of him, so he had taken to spending his time off—as rare and far-between as it was—talking to the stone, as if it were Maes himself.

_'But it isn't, and I know that._

_I know that so well.'_

There was so much irony in this area; it was where the two had truly, first met. They were young then, scarcely 16, and Roy was just enraptured with him. He had never believed in 'love at first sight' until they met.

Maes had been standing before a tombstone, hands in his pockets. Back then, the graveyard had been much more ornate; welcoming and coated with flowers. It was a garden of open sadness, where one could be free to express their own sorrow.

Maes as well, was rather different to gaze at. He still had his primary glasses, but his hair was so much longer, and tied into an ornate, complicated ponytail, with a striking similarity to Kimbley's. He was quite a spectacle to behold.

"Whoever's there, you'd better come out. I'm being trained for the military; I can easily tell you're here." Without so much as a glance, Maes had called out to the meek Roy--Roy's own confidence had come from Hughes, and he would remember that for all of his life--and called for his attention.

The alarmed Roy had slowly walked out from behind the oak tree, approaching Maes warily, as if afraid the other would jump or shout at him at any moment.

"What's your name?"

"Roy."

"Roy? You don't look like a Roy. Oh, and I'm Maes."

Roy was left agape at the casual manner of the 19-year-old.

"I'd suggest you close your mouth, or I'll close it for you."

It had been the first time a male had ever flirted with him, let alone suggested a kiss.

**_ooooooo_**

"Hey. Bastard. Get the hell up, I have to turn that report in to you. Hey! Wake up!" An irritated Edward kicked at the dead-asleep Colonel, nudging the older man's leg with his toe. Apparently Mustang had fallen asleep in his reflections of past memories with Maes, and was knocked out against the rock, actually _drooling_ from the corner of his mouth. It was kind of cute, in a fragmented, lopsided way.

"Oi!" He finally garnered a slight reaction from Roy, who mumbled and shifted, hazily opening an eye.

"Yes, Edward?" Roy responded, attempting to look composed and together in front of his subordinate, despite having a wet spot on the collar of his uniform and grass coating his military uniform in almost every crevice.

Edward muffled a snicker. "I need to turn in that report, don't I? Get the hell up."

Roy was in no mood for a fight, so he simply stood and led the boy away from the graveyard, that was once a haven for sadness and grief surrounded by ethereal beauty.

_'Maes was light, but…maybe there's some other light.'_

"Edward. Do you know what it is you remind me of?"

"What?"

"Sunlight through an open window."

"…you are indefinitely creepy, Mustang."


	12. Theme 12

Whine and Wine

30 Kisses theme: 12. 'In a good mood'

Pairing: Teen!RoyxMaes.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or the song 'Cigarettes' by Seether from which I listened to for its beat, so this partially based off of, I guess.

Notes: Cheerful. Actually kind of cracky, too.

Ramblings: I started it early, and even know what pairing I want next!...once I finish the game! xD

* * *

They were going to war, and it was time to celebrate. Naturally, for barely-of-age drinkers as them, this meant to drink, get wasted, laid, and a few other things they wouldn't be able to come by for the next few, oh, _months._

Unless one (or many) of them were gay, in which they would get laid anytime, but that's beside the point now, isn't it?

So, they all paired up with a girl (or two, or four, or seven), found a secluded, dark area of the high-and-mighty bar, and had a little fun with the so-totally-wasted-beyond-a-breath-of-life girls.

Except for two—yes, _two;_ it just wouldn't be a 'pairing' without two, right? then it'd be a threesome, and we can't have that!—very soon-to-be soldiers.

'Old enough to go war, but not enough to drink.' How very shameful, yes?

"This sucks, Maes."

"Roy, stick it out. They should get tired after some--" he heard a random moan that sounded like _'Kimbleeeeeey'_, "—time.

"Yeah, when their sex drives loosen up."

Roy Mustang, 17, slurped at his bittersweet non-alcoholic drink. Maes Hughes, 18, Roy's closest friend of so very many years, just stared at the pouting boy, likewise licking his wine down.

"You need to loosen up, Roy. You can drink in seven months, anyways." He shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back, gulping down the last remnants of the intense drink.

Roy just pouted more.

"How can I loosen up?.! I'm tenser than a fucking string, Maes! Just give me a sip of that sweet, sweet nectar called alcohol and I'll be free as a damn bird!" Pleading, Roy stared up at Maes with those large, doe-like eyes.

Maes was not fazed.

"For one, you're not old enough. For two," he turned the glass upside down, "I'm all out."

"You can't just buy another?" Roy inquired, completely ignoring the former statement.

"All out of cash."

"Cheapskate."

"Hey, you're the one that spent it all on that flashy watch you lost _5 minutes after buying."_ Maes teased, prodding at Roy's buttons, yet knowing in full the repercussions for doing such a very (idiotic) act.

Roy snarled.

"I'll show **you** to make a mockery of me, you asshat!" He yelled, tackling Maes from his stool, but crash-landing onto the musty wood floor with a loud _'oof!'_

Roy smirked. "If you won't _give_ me your wine, I'll just have to **take** it from you." Grinning wickedly, he dragged their slightly parted mouths together. He licked at Maes lips and still-as-stone tongue, tasting the "sweet, sweet nectar" of wine and…

"Cigarettes?" Roy drew back, raising an eyebrow.

"…it relieves tension."

"Smoking age is 20, Maes." Roy scoffed. "And here you were chastising _me_ for wanting a drink!"

"…shut up!"


	13. Theme 13

Forfeit (Part I/III)

30 Kisses Theme: 13. 'Excessive chain'

Pairing: RoyxMaes, hints of past RoyxRiza, eventual un-requited RoyxEdward.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, 'Sex Changes' by The Dresden Dolls from which the beginning lines are taken of, 'Forfeit' by Chevelle from which the title is take from, or anything else for that matter.

Notes: Hints of Black Rituals in the future, dark.

Ramblings: I haven't watched anime in so long, but I have a duty, damnit!

* * *

_Tomorrow,_

_And tomorrow,_

_And tomorrow._

**_ooooooo_**

"If you continue to stall, sir, there will not be a tomorrow"

"And if I do not stall, then I will have to work today."

It was nearing 6 o'clock in the evening, and Mustang had yet to move a muscle. He did not twitch the slightest, except to perhaps ask for a cup of coffee of Feury, or berate the dear Elric boy of his height, status, and lack-thereof-limbs. He simply laid back in his oh-so comfortable leather chair and stared into the gradually dimming ceiling.

Hence why Hawkeye was rather…fed up.

"Sir, you must at least turn in the deadlines in two days hence." She sighed, wishing to massage the bridge of her nose, but found it to be undignified in his presence—at least, for that time. Instead, she tried her damndest to appear menacing and frustrated, but instead appeared as if she needed a nice, long, meditation.

Which she _so_ freaking did.

Her eye twitched.

Roy breathed.

She lost all dignity in one quick swoop, and had him by the collar of his itchy cotton suit. She hovered above him, hoping to see at least _something_ in that empty, black eye. She opened her mouth, just slightly, and said,

"You are herein ordered to take a week-long vacation, Colonel." And dropped him back in his chair. She swiveled around, boots clicking on the floor with every step, and stopped at the order, ending with a whispered "Roy Mustang, _sir."_ And walking out, as she had done so very long ago.

**_ooooooo_**

It was two days since his and Riz—_Hawkeye's,_ unconventional meeting, and he was waiting for the train to arrive, eyepatch in place and cart chock full of goings-on for relaxation. In his left hand, he held a pamphlet, reading something of a foreign language which even he could not understand; in his right was his watch of a warrior. The speaker in the background droned of arrivals, departures, and other such nuisances.

_'Departure…'_

His left grip tightened.

**'Train Number 6, Arriving at Station 6, Leaving in 6 Minutes,'** crackled over the speakerphone, as Roy's watch snapped shut. In the distance, through his mind's eye, he glanced to a small figure of blonde and red, but paid no heed to it. Instead, he dragged his crate to the train's valet, gave simple directions, and hunted for an available seat in the near-empty train.

_'Why is it so empty? That's so odd for Central…'_ He seated himself in a small private-car, shut the thick glass door, and slumped onto the metal bench, releasing a long-awaited sigh. His back cracked slightly as he shifted, and he winced, muttering an 'endless chain of bad events…' and falling to sleep.


	14. Theme 14

Forfeit (Part II/III)

30 Kisses Theme: 14. 'Radio-cassette player'

Pairing: RoyxMaes, hints of past RoyxRiza, eventual un-requited RoyxEdward.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or 'Forfeit' by Chevelle from which the title is take from. I **do** however, own the weird Ritual I made up in a matter of 30 minutes or so. No, I did not perform it. Me, kill a living person? Pshaw. I'm more of a torturous person—and not kindly, thank you.

Notes: I seriously made this all up. If this is actually a Dark Ritual, I didn't know. I'm just…really, really weird.

Ramblings: Daaamn. This is actually pretty long for me.

* * *

I didn't realize it 'til I was nearly 30 miles from leaving the train station, that I had forgotten, to my own foolishness, my Alchemist's watch. There it was—most likely, simply sitting there, shining in the sun with a great gala of people surrounding about it, wondering 'what clumsy alchemist would leave their watch in this town?'

The Flame Alchemist, that's who.

"Taxi…" I mumbled in that half-awake, half-I'm-going-to-hurl-on-you tone. I made some fishy waving motion towards the giant hill in front of me. I made careful to not speak any more, and also to not look at the light. That pain-reliever medicine I took some twelve hours ago was starting to wear off, and the migraine was definitely starting to kick in again. _'Now all I need is some ovaries and I'd be a total hormonal woman.'_

'_For the sake of all that I love, let this opportunity go through.'_

**_ooooooo_**

"Welcome back to Ishbal, Roy." I hear myself mutter, not entirely recognizing it as my own voice; the actual acknowledgement that I was in the very spot that was the very bane of my existence for so long was rather…incriminating, perhaps? Something akin to shameful, even.

What was I doing here, even? My 'prescribed' week-long vacation to a wondrous, sunny beach near the coast was just waiting to be invoked with glee, and yet here I was, down-trodden Flame Alchemist in horrid, thick military uniforms, being glared at with utter contempt by the remaining Ishbalans.

"Quite a lovely day, yes?" I hollered out as courteously as I could, all the while hiding the great discomfort stuck in my throat, "It's rather humid around here, but that's normal, right?" _Oh, just shoot me already. I deserve it at this rate._ I swallowed all militaristic-induced… 'mannerisms,' and gallantly walked off to the ruins of the temple.

**_ooooooo_**

"'Time is short, traveler'" I heard my mentality recite, flowing through the gap in my face without acknowledgement. My subconscious had recently absorbed the details of the curious contraption given to me by the vagabond, whilst my actual knowledge between right and not-right had rejected it immediately. "'The Mother of Amestris has left you and your cherished one alone. They have perished, as has your soul. You must take heed of the warning I give to you…'

_"'Your heart will lie to you in such time of now. It will attempt to lead you astray from what you truly desire. To cleanse of such prohibitions, you must cut into the flesh of your own mortal being thrice, and let the soul which one bound you pour no more than half-full of your mind's eye.'" _I could feel my mentality slipping away as the blood leaked out into a carved form in a five-pointed star upon the ground.

_" 'Your mind will be the only truth known to you, but no incision is to be made of your own. You must take an animal, no matter the size, and incise into it one line down the stomach, but no blood be drawn. One clean cut, nor more and no less.'" _I felt my arm attempt to twitch as it made a swift cut down the rabbit's stomach, but I quelled it. _"'Your heart will still be attempting to control your mentality, but pay it no heed. It will be of no use to you.'"_

_"'Your soul is entirely unnecessary, and will be the most intriguing and difficult to take hold of and control. This clay dish requires at least six of your own emotional droughts, otherwise known as tears. They will be the last you know of. This will be the simplest task to perform, and yet most taxing. You need only focus on the force of the discomfort, and nothing else'." _The last tears I swore to ever shed made a small indentation into the clay jar, and were soon absorbed to the dry substance.

_"'The last requirement is a body to be given to the perished one. The body must be recently deceased and no older than twenty-one years, as the body shall not age. Once the body has been brought in, you must create a circle to surround all of the elements, the candlelight must be spread throughout, and all shall go into flames.'" _I almost gave the last seventh tear as I finally whispered a soft, "I am sorry, Edward," and kissed his still-warm temple. As I tossed the candle about, watching my own blood burn and tears burst by the wax and oil and heat, I felt a silent tugging sensation. With all of my deed done, I whispered what I last recalled of my conscious,

"What have you done, Mustang."


	15. Theme 15

Forfeit (Part III/III)

30 Kisses Theme: 15. 'Perfect blue'

Pairing: RoyxMaes, hints of past RoyxRiza, eventual un-requited RoyxEdward.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Forfeit' by Chevelle from which the title is derived of. I do not own the concept of one's soul (ish) in another's body, I don't think. I don't own FMA, or anything affiliated with it.

Notes: Let's convict Roy! Yaaay, what **fun!**

Ramblings: It's short, yeah. Deal.

* * *

"Roy Mustang, how do you plead to the charges against to you?"

"Guilty, sir."

"Mr. Mustang…" the military judge gave him a skeptical look, as did his lawyer, but he disregarded it. He continued with, "I did kill Edward Elric, I did perform a forbidden act to bring back the dead, and I did rape the soul of Maes Hughes in the form of Edward Elric. I am guilty sir, and I accept it." He raised his shackled arms, no trace of guilt in his eyes, as if he had no emotion left to give; no remorse.

His colleagues behind him were all deathly silent, each with their own conflict with Roy's actions. He had killed a fellow officer without any second thoughts, had accepted the punishment in the form of a trial, and was still considered sane enough to have done all with a clear mind; no misery, or hate-love intended.

Nothing.

Riza shook her head solemnly, not bearing to go through the judge's astonishment at Roy's statements. She quietly left the room, her heels barely making a sound.

**_ooooooo_**

"How'd it go?"

"He pleaded guilty. I believe he's going into the details now. You have nothing to worry about…Maes." She stumbled over her words, not bearing to look over at the image of a long-haired petite blonde, with the same mannerisms of her late superior. She grit her teeth, gave a small goodbye, and walked off, not even glancing behind at the solemn child.

**_ooooooo_**

_'Equivalent Exchange my ass, Roy. You took away Ed's life for mine? My own wife doesn't know who I am, and you did it all for your own personal gain! What about Al? We've all lost something, you're only making the cycle worse._

_'You caused Edward to forfeit his life, and me to forfeit my freedom in the afterlife._

_'You're nothing but a coward.'_

**_ooooooo_**

**What does one call perfection?**

**Is it set in stone?**

**What is the perfect blue?**

**Is it that of a lapel of a coat,**

**Or the haze of smoke?**

**Or perhaps, the light of a life fading…**

**And arriving.**


	16. Theme 16

Bravery

30 Kisses Theme: 16. 'Invincible; unrivaled'

Pairing: RoyxMaes, RoyxRandomGirl

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: The original, un-beta'd copy of this chapter was lost to me when my last archive-holder (flashdrive) crashed on me. So I going by the one I posted to the 30-kisses community. Please forgive all and any errors and if the spacing gets weird or anything.

Ramblings: Not the original; the livejournal edition, kind of.

* * *

"You knew she was underage, Roy." He states blandly, no anger or frustration apparent in his voice. He is standing before the other's desk, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. It is a rare moment of silence in the office, aside from the occasional shuffle of papers or drag of a cigarette. 

"Hey, I told her it was a one-night stand."

"I'm not concerned about that. She was _underage."_

"She had an I.D. Able to smoke, even. Said she was 22."

"The I.D., or her?"

Roy's mouth closes tightly, holding back a sharp remark. He glances subtly at the other, wondering what exactly he was pondering in that skull of his. "It doesn't matter." He fiddles with a pen, distracting himself from the situation at hand. "It was just a one-night stand." He halts momentarily, as if in contemplation. "You wouldn't actually report me, would you?" He turns slightly, staring hard into those dark eyes, wondering what course the man would take.

Maes falters slightly. "No; I respect you too much." He pauses, then continues. "Or rather, I respect your drive for competition, but not how you spend your _spare time."_ There is a trace of anger and jealousy mixed in with the last few words, but he shows no sign of it, visibly.  
Roy only scoffs, and goes back to fiddling with his state-issued pen. His feet rest on the fading wood desk, shoes scuffed with the passage of time and war.

"You're not invincible, Roy. And you never will be."

_**ooooooo**_

Roy bends down to the tombstone, passing his hand over the rock slowly. He feels the inscribed, worn words, feeling for something of a soul; a remainder of Hughes. He clenches his fist for a moment, then releases it. He sighs to himself, pushing away from the memory. There is nothing left in his wake, save for a few flowers, and a small, black notebook:  
_  
"You were more than distraction, Maes; you were the distraction. I was vincible because of you, and I regret your passage. Now I can attain what I always wished, but without the closest person I ever came in contact with. Goodbye."_


	17. Theme 17

Noise

30 Kisses Theme: 17. 'kHz (kilohertz)'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Yes, it's kind of lame, but I feel just…awful.

Ramblings: I (felt) sick.

Summary: Maes takes care of a sick Roy.

* * *

If it weren't for the blaring of the television, Maes would have believed Roy to not even be awake. He cocked an eyebrow at the brunette's housemate, who was currently yelling at said television, in an almost louder tone than it. He shook his head, wondering why he had even been asked to come over when all Roy needed was some warmth and quiet.

"Roy?" He yelled softly, waiting for a response. Not receiving one, he shrugged and made his way up the stairs, stopping by his room. Instead of lightly knocking, he beat his fist roughly against the wooden door, hoping to be heard over the noise.

A grumpy, sick Colonel answered. He sniffled and glared, moving behind the door, in an invitation for Maes to come in.

"You look like hell."

"I feel like it." He threw himself on the bed, face down into the pillow. Maes had to stifle a laugh at the scruffy-haired man.

"Is he still at it?"

"Yeah."

"I haven't been able to sleep all day because of that damn thing. All I wants some peace 'n quiet…" Roy whined slightly. He moved his head slightly to glance pitifully at the older man, who only sighed and laid the messed blanket over him.

Maes grinned softly. It was so rare to see the calm and collected Colonel so undone, and was quite a treat, despite the circumstances. He rubbed his hand over the over's back soothingly, lulling him into sleep. Before he left, he placed a hidden pair of earplugs within the other's ear canals, thus silencing the adamant noise.

"Don't worry about work, Roy. They won't mind you missing another day."

The last thing Roy heard before he drifted completely into dreams was silence and a comforting voice saying '…another day.'


	18. Theme 18

Story

Story

30 Kisses Theme: 18. 'say ahh...'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Companion piece to the last one. Roy's still sick, and Maes is taking care of him.

Ramblings: Murgh. Might as well get it done before the weekend comes around, and while it's nice and cold! :D

Summary: Maes tells Roy a story.

* * *

There was something serene about a half-awake, sick Colonel gazing at him with those sweet, sleepy eyes. There were no callous orders of command or cold accusations being directed at him; only a drowsy, sick man, wanting to be comforted and warm in his sick body.

"Maes…" he slurred, snuggling up to the other's leg, "tell me a story…"

Maes quirked an eyebrow. He had been doing so a lot lately, with Roy's common cold evolving into bronchitis, then to pneumonia. The doctors had advised him to not be too close to the sick man, but who was he to listen? And when Roy had willingly, and almost happily, accepted the bitter-tasting liquid medicine prescribed by his doctor, that had stunned him speechless.

Hughes didn't even have to wrestle him or force his mouth open, or ram a damn turkey baster down his throat, only give a cheek, "Say ahh…" and insert.

If he wasn't damn married, he'd've believed there something erotic about that thought. Instead, he sighed and ran his hand through Roy's coarse, unclean hair. He grimaced slightly, feeling the sweat and grease sticking to his hands. Roy snuggled closer, appearing half his actual age, his dark eyes wide and innocent and disturbingly Edward-like.

Maes rolled his eyes. He mumbled "fine" quietly, then kissed Roy's head, just as he had so many years ago.

"Once upon a time, in a far off kingdom…"


	19. Theme 19

Depth Perception

Depth Perception

30 Kisses Theme: 19. 'red'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Set during Ishbal Massacre. Maes-centric.

Ramblings: I finally hit the two-year mark! God am I a slow writer!

Summary: Roy is tormented by his mind, Hughes is tormented by his heart.

* * *

Maes knew something would eventually happen to off-set the Alchemist when they were issued to war. The Ishbalans were kind people, only in an outrage of alchemy because of misunderstandings, yet no one objected—at least not verbally.

Roy was far too fragile. He was so young, quickly moving up the ranks, the pressure never easing upon his shoulders, only growing larger and heavier with time. He was too young, too inexperienced, and too delicate.

Physical training did nothing for a man's emotional state.

He would hear the younger man crying out in his sleep, dry tears from a dry mind. He would see the lackluster eyes that had so entranced him in the past years, gazing out at the destruction of a small, docile people. And he would feel Roy's apathy every time he tried to hold the man.

He wished the war had never started.

He wished that Roy never enlisted.

He wished…

He wished it would all go away.

They say that war can make you lose your sanity. Maes hadn't believed it until he found a solemn Marcoh by a broken Flame Alchemist, finger still on the trigger. It was only when he asked the other what had happened, and received the truth, that he understood:

Roy's first kill.

He hid it behind arrogant, cocky smirks and snide remark,s but every now and then, he would simply…collapse into Maes, and Maes would simply hold him, trying to ease the pain.

It never worked.

But he kept trying; trying to let the pain of war somehow channel itself out of Roy, and into him instead.

And he continued to try, until the very day he died. It was that very perseverance that led him to burying his deepest, darkest secret: his love.

He never told Roy about the drunken kiss the two had exchanged, or the slurred love requests in the aftermath. He knew the stress of war and alchemy on their own were enough to hurt a man, and love was something that would eventually kill him.

He never knew that Roy was in fact, not drunk, and was also, in fact, deeply in love as well; a love that was the sole reason he had stayed in that horrendous war, strived for position of Fuhrer, and kept Maes by his side.

Love…

What a terrible, human feeling.


	20. Theme 20

Stuffed

30 Kisses Theme: 20. 'the road home'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Comedy-ish. Not as dark as the song.

Ramblings: I had difficulty with this, since it was/is so close to the end of the year/my birthday. X.x

Summary: Roy discovers something interesting about his husband.

* * *

"Maes, you need to finish packing!" Roy called up from the bottom level of the homey inn that had been staying in for the past weekend. He threaded a tie through the loop, contemplating if it was at all suiting. He grunted in denial, then ripped the fabric from his neck. Glancing up again towards the ceiling, he squinted as curses and heavy thumping sounded from the upper floor. "What the hell is he doing…" he muttered to himself, climbing the small, winding wood stairs. He knocked against the wood, calling out to him.

More curses came from the room, along with the sounds of…scratching?

"Maes? What are you--" He opened the once-locked door, his words dying in his throat. There before him, Maes was trying to shove a rather obscenely large stuffed animal into his suitcase.

"…uh. I can explain--" but he didn't need to, as Roy suddenly burst out laughing. Mustang gripped his forehead while his neck leaned back, and simply laughed.

"Oh, Maes…it's our honeymoon, and you bring a _plush toy?_ What, was my company simply not enough?" He grinned smugly, leaning against the doorframe. Maes blushed mildly.

"It's…it's not that…"

"Oh? Then what is it?"

"I…kinda thought it reminded me of you. I only just got it yesterday—I mean, the dark black eyes, silky fur, smell of cologne--"

"That's _you,_ you nutcase."

Maes glared, but only half-heartedly. He softened his gaze and turned towards the inky-black fake cat and smiled at it. He jerked slightly as he heard a quiet voice from behind him. "It _is_ rather cute, though…and better than a real one."

"That's what I have you for, Roy. What this little Junior can't do--"

"Junior?"

"Shut up, I'm speaking. Anyways, what Junior can't do, you can certainly make up for…" he grinned cockily and then added a barely noticeable, "and to relieve boredom on the road home." Then fled the room, giggling madly. He laughed louder as he heard the angry incomprehensible shouts above him, stroking over Junior's fur with his fingers. As he left the building, he shouted to the top floor, saying that he would meet Roy at the train station. The semi-frustrated Roy nodded through the glass, but changed his tone moments when he realized something.

"Maes, you bastard! Now _I_ have to carry the luggage! No sex for you on the way home!"


	21. Theme 21

Savior

30 Kisses Theme: 21. 'violence; pillage/plunder; extortion'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Set during Ishbal Massacre (or barely after).

Ramblings: I wrote this so long ago...I'm sorry I took so damned long to post it to FFN. D: It's been up on 30_Kisses for a while, too...

Summary: Roy and Maes help an injured Ishbalan just after the Massacre.

* * *

"Maes, goddamnit, get over here!" Roy barked loudly as he tossed rubble and shrapnel off a large heap. Just moments ago, he had been dismally surveying the tragic aftermath of the military's involvement, when he had suddenly jerked and began throwing rocks the size of his entire torso and screaming out obscenities at his partner. Maes blinked at his frantic-ness, and was about to go over and drag him away, when he heard it—a cry. A _human_ cry.

"Holy shit."

Wasting no time, he flew over to the heap of rocks, and began tossing away the larger ones. Gradually, the pile began to shrink in size, as he grew more and more tired. But he would never admit it. If even _one_ Ishbalan survived, they had to be saved, no matter the cost.

"Talk to me!" Roy yelled in the empty-ness of the former house.

The voice cried louder. Roy cursed softly.

Maes heaved a rather large slab of what may have one day been concrete onto the ground, panting heavily. "Where are you, little one? Can you move?" He gasped out breathily.

"…ere! I'm right here!" The voice became clearer as it moved. Gradually, a small hand poked out from beneath a few piles of wood.

Maes gasped in relief. Roy sighed happily.

"Don't worry, little one. We're here to help you." But silently, he glanced at Roy; would the child be frightened because of their military uniforms? He certainly hoped not.

"Okay!" Maes nodded towards Roy, a clear sign to keep the child talking while he tried to rescue her.

Roy glanced back. He stopped in his efforts, instead moving towards the hand and gripping it slightly. He smiled, and although she could not see it, he knew she could tell. "What's your name, little one?" Maes moved a particularly large amount of charred wood, and a portion of a face became visible.

She beamed. "I'm Sara. What's your, mister?"

"Roy."

She giggled. "That's a funny name. What's his?" She pointed a finger at Maes, half of a smile showing.

"He's Maes. He's my friend."

"That's a funny name, too!"

"Sara, where's your mother?" Roy immediately regretted the words that came out of his mouth as the little girl's red eyes grew dismal.

"Mommy…mommy died. Some really bad men made her die. She was so red…" Tears began brimming at the corner of her eyes, and Roy wanted nothing more than to hug the sweet girl.

Instead, he sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetie…"

She nodded, and Maes began physically scooping away the rubble blocking her. Gradually, her small arms and dirty, town dress came into view. She smiled up at them sadly, then reached out her arms, hoping to be held. Roy, smiling gently, obliging and heaved her into his arms.

"Are you alright, Sara?" She nodded.

Behind him, Maes gasped for breath. He laid a heavy hand on Roy's shoulder, using him as support. Gasping one last time, he heaved himself up to his full stature and smiled happily. She beamed back.

"Well, what about your father?" Maes asked, ruffling her long, brown hair. Her face screwed up in concentration.

"Um, Papa…I dunno. He was out somewhere when Mommy…died." Her grip around Roy's neck tightened, and she buried her head beneath his chin. Maes and Roy exchanged glances. What had this girl been through? Roy opened his mouth slightly, preparing to comfort her again, when a reverberatingly deep voice boomed in the vicinity.

"Sara?! Sara, are you alright?! Talk to me, Sara! Where are you?!" A lumbering form of a man came by the opening into the crumbling room, then stopped in shock. "Sara? Sara, is that you?" Slowly he approached the two men and girl, unsure of how to talk to them. They didn't _seem_ evil, but they were military men…

Sara's head rose up swiftly, and she turned around slightly. "Papa? Papa!" She jumped out of Roy's grasp and ran into her father's waiting arms. He laughed gaily and heaved her up, raising her to sky as if she were a bird.

He beamed brightly, his smile matching his daughter's. He slowly lowered her to the ground, and she clutched at his torn clothes. "Papa, Papa! Roy and Maes helped me out! They're really nice!" Her red eyes twinkled in happiness, matching his in surprise.

"Really now…" He glanced warily at them, but calmed when he realized just how much effort they went through to save her. "Thank you, sirs. I cannot give any other thanks, and I bear no grudge against you. You…were under orders, after all. Thank you, and may Ishbala be with you." He bowed to them, then took Sara's hand in his and walked out, hiding in the shadows of the destruction, carefully of anyone who wasn't Ishbalan, or his daughters' two saviors.

Roy smiled, watching the two depart, and took Maes' hand in his in much the same fashion. He grinned happily, and through the chaos and pointless hatred of the war—nay, massacre, he knew something good had come of it.


	22. Theme 22

Able

30 Kisses Theme: 22. 'cradle'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ramblings: Yes, late, I know. Don't ask when I first posted this, cause it waaaaay back at the first few pages of _Annie,_ my Halo WIP. And yes, it is short. Very.

Summary: "It's going to rain today…" Angst. Spoilers.

* * *

"Maes, you are—_were_ such…such an idiot." The Colonel spoke solemnly, his makeshift soliloquy broken only by the occasional brush of the dead man's matted hair. The other's eyes lay closed and empty; his chest neither rising nor falling. Roy smiled with sorrow, refusing to let the tears welling up behind his eyes fall. "And I love you for it," he touched his own warm forehead to Maes' cold one, "so much."

Riza gazed on, her expression emotionless. She took a step, hesitated, then stopped. Roy needed to mourn.

He smiled grimly. The weight of Maes' head cradled in his lap was overwhelming, despite the fact that the other weighed virtually nothing at all. "Wish I could've told you sooner, Maes, but I'm such a coward," he thumbed over the other's brow, "always believing 'another day. I'll always have another day.' But I…I suppose it's a bit too late now, isn't it?" His false cheer dropped rapidly as he stopped stroking his would-be-lover's brow. "So I…I suppose I'll say it now: I love you, Maes. I always have." With those final parting words, he kissed the man on the forehead, leaving him to rest in peace.

_"Why's Daddy going into the ground?"_

_"It's going to rain today…"_


	23. Theme 23

Candy Kisses

30 Kisses Theme: 23. 'candy'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ramblings: See the last two chapters for details.

Summary: "Remember our teen years, Maes" Before the war, after we met. When you…kissed me." Slight Angst.

* * *

"Do you remember, Maes?" Roy spoke softly as he seated himself on the soft, slick grass. He leant up against the cold, cold gravestone, a saddened smile up across his handsome face. "It was Halloween night, and you actually wanted to go trick-or-treating at seventeen years." He laughed brightly.

"I objected, of course, saying that we could always get our own without our dignities being ripped away." His forehead tilted slightly towards the wing, simply absorbing the breeze. "But no one can argue with you." The breeze blew harder.

"We went to every house on the block, and I swear, I thought I would die of embarrassment. I mean, a fairy and an elf? How little kid can you get?" He laughed quietly as the wind stopped moving.

His head lolled to the engraving, a content, mild smile written on his face. "Seventeen years old, and I had never been kissed." His smile faded. "Hell, I can still feel and _taste_ you—like white chocolate and brown sugar; horrendously sweet. What was your excuse again?" His thin eyebrows drew together in concentration. "Ah right, I had chocolate on my lips." He snorted. "I think you just wanted to make out with your best friend."

Roy sighed. "An anniversary of Halloween night…I always dread this time." He grumbled lowly as he shoved himself up from the gravestone. He kneeled down, leaving a simply white rose by the marker. "See you someday, sweet cheeks." And he left his heart behind.

_"Like dark chocolate and sugarplums."_

_"Sugarplums?"_

_"Tantalizingly sweet and bitter, but with a dark essence all its own…I'll never need chocolate again with you by my side, Roy."_

_"…thank you…Maes."_


	24. Theme 24

Goodnight and Goodbye

30 Kisses Theme: 24. 'good night'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ramblings: I couldn't get ACT accommodations, so it figures I'd have a seizure _the night before the ACT. _They had basically said 'if you can breathe and you can walk, you're not disabled.' Bullshit.

Summary: Remember, remember, and never forget. Post-anime. Supernatural.

"You know, Elysia was conceived on St. Valentine's Day." Maes said quietly to his long-time best friend, who only raised an eyebrow and smirked. Maes' eyes are doing that creepy twinkling again, with that mischievous light that always led to bad things—things that Roy would care not to have repeat on him. Instantly, he is on high alert, his military training kicking into gear. Now was definitely not the time for Maes to pull one of his stupid little pranks—not with this horrid holiday so close.

Roy studies him closely out of one eye, staring intently over the rim of his glass of bourbon. "That makes sense; she was born in the middle of winter." Maes' smirked widened by a fraction. "Although, that's an awful morbid day to have knocked your wife up, you know."

Maes' smirk dropped like a hot plate, although that damned twinkle was still there in his deep, dark eyes. "What do you mean?" He grumbled sulkily.

"Saint Valentine, I think he was Italian or Latin or something—he's also the patron saint of epileptics, actually—was killed, or martyred, rather, on February 14th. St. Valentine's Day is the celebration of on man's violent murder. You can't get any more morbid than that." He grinned darkly into his bourbon, watching with adamant curiosity.

Maes glared into his drink, a deep scowl set upon his handsome features. Roy had to stifle a laugh, it was so uncharacteristic of the normally-bubbly man. Just as Maes looked back up to him in an effort to retort, and his eyes set, the chimes on the old clock rang twelve times. Roy's eye lifted in surprise. "Well, at least that horrendous holiday is over. Happy End-of-Valentine's Day." He raised his glass, expecting the man to give him cheers in return, but Maes only stared mysteriously at him.

"Er…what?"

Maes' eyes twinkled brighter, if it were even possible. "You _do_ know what the day after Valentine's is, don't you, Roy?"

"Uh…White Day?"

"No, that's March 14th. What's February 15th?"

"…a Saturday?" Roy's voice had begun to waver as his friend steadily approached him—when had Maes gotten up?—almost stalking toward him, like the hunter and the hunted.

"No…" His expression was so wicked, practically feral, as he stopped directly in front of the other dark-haired man. He slammed his arms down on the armrests of the uncomfortable leather chair, effectively pinning him. "One more guess, Roy; clock's ticking." He sing-songed, his index finger going side-to-side, in imitation of an old grandfather clock.

A minute passed.

If it were even possible, Maes' smile stretched beyond its maximum.

"Lupercalia," he whispered, just seconds before capturing the younger in a one-sided kiss.

Roy, of course, was having difficulty thinking. He wasn't actually grossed out, no—although a part of his subconscious told him that he really should be—just rather stunned. Disbelieving. Blank. However, when Maes grabbed his face full-force, and just started attacking it, there wasn't much else he could do.

So he kissed back.

And suddenly nothing mattered, not even that they were both men, that Maes had been married, that Maes was—

His eyes widened sharply, and he shoved the man back from him. "Maes, you—you can't be here."

"And why not?"

"Because you're…er…"

The older's trademark grin returned, full-force. "Dead?"

Roy nodded mutely. Slowly, Maes raised his knee to rest between the other's legs, whose ears had started to turn a dark shade of burgundy. His expression became more and more gentle as he simply stared into the other's deep coal eyes, inches away from his face.

"That's why it's called a wish, right?"

Roy blinked. Earlier than night, just moments before Maes came to 'visit,' he had wished casually on a shooting star for one last night with the man, but no one ever takes their own wishes seriously…

"So—" Maes nodded as Roy blurted. "But you're still…" He nodded again. "So this is a one-chance opportunity, right, Maes?"

"Most likely, unless you can manage to wish on a shooting star on St. Valentine 's Day at 11:11 PM again." His arms snaked down to grip Roy's jeaned thighs. "So? What do you say?" Mere millimeters were between them, leaving Roy feeling rather dazed and hazy.

"For the love of Brahman**(1)**, yes."

And the rest was just a blur. In the few hours to come, he would remember less and less of it, until finally it came time for Maes to say goodbye.

"Goodbye and goodnight, Roy," He whispered into the other's ear, who mumbled sleepily. "And pleasant dreams." Shortly before he returned to his afterlife, he left only one indication of his being there: his own pair of glasses. Later, when Roy would wake up, he wonder in confusion exactly where they had come from, and why they smelled so heavily of Maes.


	25. Theme 25

The Wife, the Kids, and the White Picket Fence

30 Kisses Theme: 25. 'fence'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ramblings: I had a seizure a few weeks before I wrote this…and in front of Mum's kids! _**'SMORES, NO LESS! **_(code for 'sophomores'). Dx But hey, I had finally gotten my laptop, which I love dearly. :D

Warnings: Calling Gracia a hooker? Sort-of. If you consider mail-order brides hookers, that is. OOC-Maes & Roy.

Summary: While between you and me from point A to point B is a fine line; that burns at both our good ends.

* * *

"You _cannot_ be serious." My fork is poised halfway to my lips, the cantaloupe slowly dripping onto the tablecloth. He sniffs haughtily, and shoves the sweet fruit forcefully into my mouth. "Yes, I can." He glares lightly, but half-heartedly; I chew slowly, thinking.

I swallow roughly around the mush of sweet-ness. "But Maes, really…a _mail-order bride?_ What fucking generation are you from?" I can feel the hysteria rising slowly into my voice, only managing to crush it by shutting the hell up instantly.

He shifts his eyes over to me, eyeing me cautiously. "My parents want me to get married."

"Maes, they think you're just misunderstood. You're _gay!_ You're gayer than a Christmas tree in July!" I faintly feel the clatter of dishes on the table as I slam my palms upon the glass, but pay it no heed. No, instead I only focus on his angry, frustrated eyes boring holes into my skull. He snarls beneath his breath. "Do you think I _want_ this, Roy?" He huffs, muscular arms crossed tightly across his chest; he's on the defensive, but I don't seem to care. His gaze shifts from mine to the floor, and I see his arms tightening around his chest—protecting himself.

I sigh and roll my eyes, sitting down again, quietly. Pushing my cantaloupe around on the plate, I analyze him under the cover of my bangs: shallow breaths, tightness around the eyes, wrists clinging to his biceps. He's afraid, and I can't pinpoint why exactly.

Sometimes I really fucking hate being so damn intuitive.

I groan loudly, opting to grip the bridge on my nose tightly, trying to fend off irritation—at what, I'm not sure—and an oncoming headache. "Maes, I'm sorry I snapped. Really." But I can't stand to look at him; he always more emotional than me.

"Oh please, Roy, don't go trying to be human again." He snorts; I feel a small smile creep up on my cheeks. "But you know…"

"What?"

"There's nothing I can do. Since I'm still not married at 25—and what I don't get is why 25? That's so young!—and have thus failed in my compromise to my horrid parents—"

"I hope your mother gets a yeast infection and your father dies of prostate cancer."

He snorts out a deep laugh, and continues, a small, wilted smile on his beautiful boyish cheeks. "They've arranged a wife for me." His smile turns to a grimace and he clings close to himself again, leaving me feeling like a shadow that's lost its light. I bite my lip in thought, but nothing comes to mind.

I sigh to myself. "Is she mail-order or arranged?"

"Aren't they basically the same?"

I laugh softly to myself, feeling the misery creeping over me. Maes and I had been a couple for a little over four years now, somehow managing through all that time to get our relationship a secret from his parents. His father was the aging head of a major oil corporation, while his mother was the ex-actress trophy wife. Both held high expectations for their only boy—what is it with boys always being the successors?—none of which including him buggering other boys.

"We could elope."

I drag my head up in shock, a small wave of dizziness washing over me. "Uh…what?" His dark eyes are staring head-on into my own, and for one brief second, it feels as if the world has fallen away, leaving only us.

But then, he blinks, and the imagery disappears. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and to attempt to clear up my confusion. "I'm sorry, but did you just say we could _elope?"_ He nods, not a trace of doubt on his face. "But what about your inher—"

"I don't care about it." My jaw drops slightly. "I don't care about the money, or the girls (obviously), or their vision of the wife, the kids, and the stupid 5,000 dollar white picket fence." Suddenly, he directly in front of me, his eyes pleading with me. He clasps my soft hands in his own worn ones, sending a small shock through my body. "All I give a damn about is _you,_ Roy. Fuck the world, and fuck my parents."

His eyes are boring into me, and the intensity within them is almost too much to handle. "Maes, are you…asking what I think you're asking?"

Suddenly, he is grinning brightly and widely. "It may be the states, and every-fucking-one may be a damn homophobe, but I know of three states that we can—"

"For hell's sake, Maes, yes. Yes, I do, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, wherever, whatever. I. Do."


	26. Theme 26

Blunt

30 Kisses Theme: 26. 'if only I could make you mine'

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ramblings: Dude, I'm actually almost done. I have no idea what I should do when I finish these; maybe try my Bizenghast again? Or try my luck at The Labyrinth or something; maybe BONES, Supernatural…?

Summary: Roy has a declaration he wants to make—and it's the least likely thing Maes ever expected.

Warnings: Done last-minute, wording weird, plot kind of…obscure. But it's done.

* * *

"I want to fuck you."

Maes' fork paused halfway to his mouth, small crumbles of broccoli falling away. His eyes were frozen, wide, mouth stuck in a constant 'o' shape. Roy sniffed, stabbed a carrot with his spindly fork, and chewed thoughtfully, as if he hadn't just said out loud, in public, that he wanted to have sex with his best, _married,_ _**male**_ friend.

Somehow, Maes found it in him to stop gaping like a damned pufferfish, his teeth clashing with an audible 'clack!' He cleared his throat, swallowing nervously, and hissed over to the handsome bachelor in anger. "What the fuck are you thinking, Roy? I've know you for eight goddamn years—"

"Nine and a half." _But who's counting?_

Maes stared again. Slowly, he lowered his fork to the plate, his dinner outing suddenly not looking so appealing—less like dinner with a friend, and more like dinner with a _date. _He shifts uncomfortably, suddenly feeling as if his suit and his _skin_ just don't feel right. He tugs at his tie, loosening it to the point of being sloppy, not-so-subtlely eyeing his best friend tensely.

Roy eyes him right back.

Maes can feel the hackles on the back of his neck raise up. Flustered, he mumbles an excuse of some sort about the restroom, hurriedly pushing away from the dinner table in the fancy restaurant that doesn't make sense now—why bring a _friend_ to such a classy place?

He sighs as he rests his forehead against the cool mirror. He 'hmms' to himself, knowing exactly what had brought about this freakish change in Roy: himself. Just weeks ago, he had been overtly peeved by Roy's constant evasiveness, and told him (screamed is more like it): either tell me the truth, or don't tell me at all!

Basically, the first thing that comes into your mind.

And unfortunately, today it was about himself and—he shuddered at the thought—Roy.

Freakish pervert.

He sighs again, turns the faucet on and splashes cool water on his face. Besides, what's to be so flustered about if he didn't reciprocate the…attention? Why care? Maybe Roy was going through a dating slump and Maes was his curious rebound.

That thought left a disgusted taste in his mouth; he coughed somewhat to rid himself of the sensation lingering in his throat. Shaking his head, he firmly told himself as he stared into his reflection's moss-green eyes: I do not care. It means nothing (even as he quelled an even more intense surge of revulsion). He groaning softly, preparing to open the door of the restroom and return to his not-very-appealing dinner, when who else but Roy stepped in.

Again, the hairs on his neck rose in fear. Blindly searching behind him, he hunted for the nearest available weapon, which was…

"A wet towel?" Roy rose an eyebrow, "Honestly, Maes; you can do better than that." Roy grinned brightly, with just a tinge of evil lurking in the background, even as he skillfully jammed the bathroom door shut, so as to prevent intruders.

"I meant what I said."

Maes flushed brightly.

"And you're not a rebound."

And his stomach jumped into his throat.

Stuttering, he asked his question. "W-why?"

Roy's eyes narrowed, almost glaring. "Well why not? You're large, muscular, handsome, gorgeous in a dorky kind of way," (Maes momentarily felt his heart clench at that comment), "and I believe would be an absolute monster in bed."

"…uh." He's not shaking in surprise any more, or afraid of Roy's advances; instead, he is merely curious and questioning. "But…I'm married." Roy's expression doesn't change in the slightest.

"I know."

"But…that's adultery."

"Maes," Roy sighs and approaches him, placing a gentle hand on Maes' shoulder softly, "it's actually not adultery if you're separated. If you and Gracia ever have a fight of some kind, something unwholly huge and you need to get away," he lowered Maes, chin to his height, staring deadest into mossy eyes and growls, "I will make you mine." He kisses Maes, tenderly, never pushing forward; he draws back slowly, sighing, smiling sadly. His hand drops from the other's cheek, and he shrugs his jacket back on. "I already put down my half for the bill, and my address," so far they'd only been communicating at work and through telephone, "so come by if you ever need some…release." And his eyes are so haunting and devilish, Maes' knees nearly buckle right there.

Roy chuckles once again, kissing Maes' cheek lightly, before turning sharply, his lapels bouncing against thighs that suddenly Maes wants to grip tightly in his palms.

Separated…right.

A slow smirk crosses Maes' face.

Maybe tonight he'd try and start something.

Just for _fun._


End file.
